“Yes, Mother, that was such a shame,” Mr. Kennedy said, shaking his head earnestly.
With that, Rose steered the conversation toward the latest collections. How they’d gone from the Reds to haute couture so quickly, Alicia couldn’t fathom. It took a special talent, she supposed, one that you were born into, instead of acquired. Alicia listened thoughtfully. It was helpful to know what to wear in the summertime, in any case.
Suddenly the kitchen door opened and then closed again, the familiar smack-clap Alicia once heard a hundred times per day. She straightened her spine, like a sentinel, but Alicia wasn’t the only one tense with expectation. There was a definite hum in the room as everyone stared at the entryway, awaiting the arrival of their golden boy.
* * *
At first, Jack seemed unimpressed to find Alicia in his house.
“Hiya, kid,” he said, with zero fanfare.
But when the group proceeded to the dining room, he yanked her into a storage closet and whispered, “You just made my fuckin’ week.” His voice was hot, yet it sent goose bumps across every part of her.
“You’re not wearing the necklace,” he said.
Jack reached under her skirt. Alicia tried to shimmy away, but there was little room to move.
“Must’ve forgotten it,” she said.
“I’ll send someone to fetch it.”
“Don’t bother.” Alicia pushed his hand away with decisiveness and force. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
“But first, a little fun.”
“You’re not going to have your way with me in a pantry.”
“Why not?” Jack smirked. “I have before.”
“Not with your parents nearby, creep. We’d better get in there before people start to talk.”
“Argh!” Jack cried. “You’re giving me a headache, not to mention a wicked case of blue balls.”
Alicia swatted him and skittered past, out into the safe daylight.
The family, plus guests, convened at the rosewood table, and within seconds the conversation sparked, opinions and barbs whizzing about. Alicia joined in, where she could, but mostly she just watched.
“So, Pat,” Jack said, digging into a dish of peas. “How’s life in Hollywoodland? You still producing that radio program?”
“For now.”
“When she’s not vacating to Europe,” the Ambassador said. “No man’s ever going to take you girls seriously if you’re constantly jetting around with your mother. And I don’t have enough money for you all to spend like her, too. You’ll need to find someone else to take up the tack.”
“Oh, Dad,” Ethel said, though he was not her father. “You have plenty of dough.”
“Not the way you women go through it,” he said. “And that includes you, Ethel.”
“Of course Dad doesn’t have enough money.” Jean rolled her eyes. “He has to save it for Jack’s campaigns.”
“Ha! Too true!” Pat barked. “John F. Kennedy, straight to the top!”
She raised a finger in the air.
“Think of it like this, Daddy,” Eunice said. “The golden child must have decent-looking sisters. Plus, if you’re keen to marry us off, don’t men like their wives to have panache?”
“Which is why I take you to Paris,” Rose said. “To imbue you Children with some taste. Especially Eunice. I’ve seen scarecrows who dress in more flattering ways.”
Though Rose’s comment was stone serious, and Mrs. Kennedy never joked, the table erupted in good old-fashioned Kennedy howls, hardy and genuine and straight from the gut. All of them, that is, except for Bobby, whose laughter was like a brief shuffle. He didn’t even talk like the others, having not inherited their charming, easy patter. Mostly he spoke in commands.
“Give me the rolls.”
“Think about Korea this way.”
“Pat, answer my question about Lana Turner.”
“We don’t need to worry about prettying up Eunice,” Jack said, and bit into a pork chop.
He was talking with his mouth mostly full.
“Sarge is smitten,” he went on. “That man is so desperate to marry you, you could wear paper bags, for all he’d care.”
“Thank God,” Rose said. “Because that’s the state of things.”
A great wave of hilarity again crashed through the room. Rose didn’t find any of it amusing. With a sour-lemon face, she set down her fork and crossed both arms. Alicia was the only one to notice, or so it seemed.
“Seriously, Eunice,” Jack said, gnawing on his food. “When are you going to marry the poor sap?”
“Who says I will? I have things to do.”
“Working with women criminals,” Rose said. “I pray you don’t pick up their bad habits.”
“I guess the real question,” Jack said. “Is who’s going to take care of Teddy now that Harvard no longer wants the task? Think we can get Sarge to marry him instead?”
“Hilarious,” Teddy said. “The whole thing was a misunderstanding. Never would’ve happened if I weren’t Catholic. You know how the Harvard types discriminate against us.”
The table nodded in time.
“Hey, did everyone fill up their cars today?” Jack asked. “With the gas price wars starting at midnight?”
“Suddenly you’re penurious?” Pat scoffed.
“I hope the driver has been apprised,” Rose said. “If not, I’ll have to dock his pay for the difference in price.”
Everyone muttered their agreement.
“I, for one, am looking forward to summer,” Joe said. “Did everyone read? Olivia de Havilland will be here, in person, in Candida. She’s set to open the twenty-fifth season of the Cape Playhouse.”
“I love Olivia de Havilland!” Jean said, sparkly and bright.
“Hear, hear,” said Jack. “And she would’ve loved me, too.”
“Oh, geez,” Pat said, and met eyes with Alicia. “We’re not supposed to bring up Olivia de H in Jack’s presence. He’s a real ass about the whole thing.”
Jack grinned, like a naughty boy. They should check his pockets for frogs and slingshots, Alicia couldn’t help but think.
“Olivia and I go way back,” he said.
“He claims he could’ve bagged her,” Pat added. “Jack has a very vivid imagination.”
“I could’ve!” he insisted. “And she would’ve loved it!”
Jack turned toward Alicia.
“It happened like this,” he said. “I was at her house, hanging out, chatting, the regular thing. As the minutes passed, she became undone by my charms.”
“Please!” Pat groaned.
“I’d like to hear more about gas prices,” Alicia said.
“Then,” Jack continued, “Liv—that’s what she told me to call her—gave me a house tour, no doubt a pretext to lure me into the sack. Unfortunately, I opened the wrong door, and tennis balls and racquets tumbled out, clobbering us both. She made me leave.”
“I’m sure it was all about the racquets.” Pat rolled her eyes. “She couldn’t have been that attracted to you, if she let a little tennis get in the way.”
Everyone laughed again, even Alicia, because she thought she should.
The dinner lasted three hours. As a whole, the Kennedys were moderate drinkers, a bit of a shock given their big and lusty personalities, and bootlegger roots. But that night the reins were loosened. Everyone was too busy celebrating, making plans for Jack, plans for them all.
All the way to the White House!
Nothing’s stopping us now!
By the time Joe Kennedy tinged his glass to make a final speech, Alicia concluded that she fit as well as any non-Kennedy might. Blending in: her greatest skill.
“This has been a terrific night,” Joe said as he stood. “And I’m certain we could solve all of Washington’s problems with the brain trust in this room.”
Everyone whooped and cheered.
“In honor of Jack’s birthday, I think a speech is in order.”
The Kennedys ho
oted again, but when Alicia went to look at Jack, she noticed that everyone was instead staring at her.
“Miss Darr?” Joe said. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
“Me?” Alicia said with a cough. “Oh, Mr. Kennedy, I’m not very good with speeches.”
“Or speech in general,” said Bobby.
“Come on, Miss Darr. Up and at ’em.”
“That’s enough, Dad,” Jack said. “She doesn’t want to.”
Bobby thwacked his hands together.
“You can’t deny the invitation, Alicia,” he said. “And you can’t leave your fans wanting.”
“Speaking of fans,” Joe said. “Did everyone know that Alicia has been scouted by none other than Don Class, one of the best talent agents in the biz? Be careful, son, or she’s going to ditch you for Hollywood!”
Alicia glared at Jack. She couldn’t believe he’d told his dad.
“You don’t have to give a speech,” he whispered, misinterpreting Alicia’s glare.
“No, Jack, I’m happy to toast you on this splendid occasion,” Alicia said, standing, her legs and stomach weak. “Of course, I’m not well-practiced in speechmaking.”
“Ha! You’re not kidding!” Ethel cackled.
“But hopefully my adoration of you all will mask my lack of experience,” Alicia said, evenly she thought. “I’m very pleased to be here, with this wonderful family, to celebrate this wonderful man.” She looked at Bobby. “And his little brother, who has accomplished something, too.”
Bobby flung a pea directly at her head, and Alicia ducked, though not in time. Her eyes darted around the table. Had Bobby Kennedy just thrown food at her? No one reprimanded him, so she had to be wrong.
“When I first met Jack…” Alicia said, pressing on, as something tiny and hard formed in her stomach. “When I first met Jack, I thought my hearing was off. You see, every person was staring at him in awe, as if he’d made some life-changing statement. But in my ears, he’d only said hello.”
“Are you sure it’s Jack you’re thinking of?” Eunice asked.
“What room was this?” Bobby said. “The maid’s closet?”
Sweat gathered at Alicia’s hairline but she muddled on, knowing that to the Kennedys nothing was worse than a quitter, not even an immigrant with a shoddy toast.
“I soon realized,” Alicia said, “that my hearing was fine.”
“Lemme guess,” Jean piped in. “It was a translation deal?”
“No.” Alicia chuckled to keep from tears. “The point I’m laboring to make is that I soon realized people regard Jack that way all the time. He commandeers a room simply by walking into it and his smile is a benediction of sorts.”
“Aw, shucks,” Jack said with a complete absence of humility.
She was beginning to regret describing him in such flattering terms.
“He dominates a room like no other,” she continued, pushing past her building doubt. “He’s bold and funny and charming. And he’s quite fun to watch.”
“What about the bedroom?” said Bobby. “How does he command that?”
Ethel bellowed and clapped. Her enormous belly jiggled. More peas sailed past.
“Come on,” Bobby pressed. “Admit it. That’s the only room you see him in.”
Several people sniggered, but Alicia didn’t stop to analyze which ones. Chest tight and vision blurry with tears, she folded her napkin and placed it on the table.
“Excuse me,” she said, voice clackety like a freight train. “Thank you for a lovely meal, but I should go.”
With that, Alicia bolted from the room.
“Was that necessary?” she heard Pat say. “Poor girl. Jesus H, no wonder so many people think the Kennedys are such pricks.”
* * *
Alicia stood on the porch, shivering in her silk despite being so hot with shame. The Victura, freshly arrived from its winter at the boatyard, bobbed in the distance.
She stared out across the sound, wondering how the night took such a crooked turn. More importantly, how was she going to get home? She refused to set foot back inside, but that’s where she’d left her handbag, and it was where she might find a phone to call George.
“They’re a bunch of cretins,” someone said. “Lowlifes.”
Alicia whirled around to find Pat, who gave her a sad smile and then offered a cigarette. Alicia didn’t smoke, but she took one all the same.
“I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong,” Alicia admitted, when Pat finally got the flame to strike in the damp air.
“Oh, kid…”
Alicia startled to hear Jack’s nickname coming from Pat’s heart-shaped mouth. If she took to calling her Dahr-ling, Alicia would be convinced that all Kennedys were pulling from the same book.
“You did nothing wrong,” Pat said.
She blew a stream of smoke over her shoulder. Pat really was the prettiest of the sisters, especially in that misty moonlight. Never mind her auburn waves and striking violet eyes, Pat lacked the others’ gawk and ranginess.
“Here’s the deal,” Pat said. “They loooooove to coax unsuspecting guests into inappropriate toasts so they can humiliate the speaker. It’s a game. You’re not the first.”
“That’s positively horrible,” Alicia said. “Sorry, I know it’s your family, but it’s really quite ghastly.…”
“Oh, I agree,” Pat said. “Why do you think I live on the left coast? Listen, kid, you handled yourself far better than most. Bobby doesn’t usually resort to monkey antics unless he’s run out of options.”
“Be sure to let Bobby and the others know I’ve suffered far greater humiliation in my life. Vegetables in my hair isn’t even in the top five, sorry to report. I know how much the Kennedys like to be winnahs.”
“Ha!” Pat said. “I like it! You’re all right, Alicia Darr.”
She took another drag of her cigarette.
“No one told me there would be stargazing after dessert.”
Another person moved onto the porch. Though she’d expected, hoped for Jack, the man who’d joined them was Joe.
“Sorry if we got a stitch rowdy in there,” he said with sincerity so manufactured, Alicia swore she saw a plastic sheen. “The Kennedys can get carried away.”
Alicia nodded because she agreed, though she did not accept his excuse. Who did these people think they were? A failed ambassador and heaps of money, plus one congressman elected from a small state. It was not the world’s most commendable dossier.
“Jack sure loves having you around,” Joe said. “We all do. You’re a thrill to look at.”
Alicia managed to push a “thanks” through her teeth.
“I’d better get inside,” Pat said, and tossed her cigarette into a nearby rosebush. “Before Mother gets lonely and starts thinking about budgets again.”
“No!” Alicia yelped. “Please. Stay.”
Pat shrugged and shook her head. Her expression seemed to say, Sorry, sister, I was being nice, but I didn’t sign up for more than the basics.
“Pat’s right,” Joe said. “Someone’s gotta entertain Mother.”
“What’s the hubbub?” said a new voice, a fourth member to this uncomfortable party that Alicia so fiercely wished to leave. “No one needs to entertain Mother. You know she prefers to be alone.”
It was Jack. Finally, Jack in third place, after Pat and Joe. Alicia scoped out the porch railing, pondering whether she had the strength to leap over and scurry off into the night.
“Let it be known I’m the only one who’s apologized to Miss Darr,” Pat said. “The rest of you are idiots. Razzing the poor girl. Get some class.”
“It’s all in good fun,” Jack said.
“Some fun.” Pat snorted. “If someone wrote a book about this family, the world would never believe it.”
“She enjoys it,” Joe said, lifting his expansive, shiny forehead. “Don’t you, Miss Darr? At the start of your speech you called us … what was it…?”
He checked with Jack.
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“A wonderful family?”
“You betcha,” Jack said.
“For Pete’s sake, the girl is an orphan.” Pat flung a hand toward Alicia. “She lost her family when she was still a girl. I’m sure she’s just relieved to be involved in a group.”
“That’s not how I’d put it.…” Alicia began, weary of the way they all spoke as if she wasn’t there.
And then: another set of footsteps on the wooden-planked porch. Alicia threw back her head and stifled a cry. How many more of them planned to come outside? She cursed Rose Kennedy for having so many damned kids, all of them hyper and yappy and crawling all over each other like puppies. Someone should neuter every last one of them.
“Can I help you?” the Ambassador asked formally.
Alicia looked up to find the feet were not Kennedy, which she should’ve guessed from the clunking stride. The steps, and the shoes, belonged to Irenka. And she was trying to join their group.
“Irenka!” Alicia said.
Her heart thrummed, her throat went dry. They’d not spoken in months, close to a year, but her old friend’s mug felt like a lifeline. Maybe she’d retrieve the purse. She’d help Alicia get home.
“We’re having a private conversation,” Pat snarled.
“Did you call Alicja orphan?” she said.
“Irenka, just leave,” Alicia said, her hopes at once dashed.
“She is not orphan,” Irenka said, to Jack, and to Joe.
She plodded farther along the porch, aggressively almost, like a fairy-tale giant stomping out villagers.
“Irenka…” Alicia pleaded.
Where was her kindness, her humanity?
“She is not orphan,” Irenka said again, her pronunciation remarkably clear, though she smelled quite strongly of booze. “Her name not Alicja. She called Barbara at home. And she has mudder, mudder still alive.”
“What’s a mudder?” Pat said.
“Where is Janet?” Joe asked, patting himself, as if he might’ve left her in some other coat. “She’ll take care of this.”
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” Jack said to Irenka. “You’re in a state. I’ll take you inside. Probably best that you have a nap.”
The Summer I Met Jack Page 20